


Tyler the Intern's Reality Canon

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Crack, Critical, Fluent in sarcasm, Gen, Humor, Probably not for you, Rude - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sarcastic, irreverent work full or criticism and snarky comments.  If you don't want to see Revolution whomped a bit, please don't read this.  There's also a bit of inside Tumblr humor, but hopefully that doesn't distract from the overall work.  </p><p>Story: Officially Tyler was a marketing intern charged with tracking fan response to show developments and updating the Revolution web page.  In practice he spent four hours a day trolling message boards under 35 different fake identities trying to convince people that the show was logical and scientifically sound.  The rest of his work hours were spent reading porn and making spreadsheets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tyler the Intern's Reality Canon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



“Kripke's coming.”

Tyler didn't even look up to thank his fellow intern for the warning. Kripke's patrols had become so routine since production had moved to Texas the team practically had written procedures for managing them. Tyler hit the panic button on Google Chrome to bring up his work related webpages. Other people's kill switches brought up Microsoft Word documents. His loaded Tumblr, Facebook, and several television chat boards. 

Officially Tyler was a marketing intern charged with tracking fan response to show developments and updating the Revolution web page. In practice he spent four hours a day trolling message boards under 35 different fake identities trying to convince people that the show was logical and scientifically sound. The rest of his work hours were spent reading porn and making spreadsheets. 

Knowing the landing of the Kripke was imminent, he checked his mini-fridge for cold Diet Coke and printed off the latest fan fic tracking log and message board report. The board reports were usually pretty short, but it took eleven sheets of legal size paper to cover the fan works. Kripke liked to know who the fans had boning who and how. Tyler wrote summaries for anything “of interest” and now knew more about the kinks of the writing and production staff than he cared to. He wrote a lot of summaries. 

Kripke stumbled in, sweating like a whore in church, and went straight for a Diet Coke, muttering curses about the Texas weather under his breath as he dropped into a chair next to Tyler. Tyler grabbed the papers from the printer and drew a breath to calm himself before beginning his report. He'd learned to leave out the words “sucks” and “bullshit” even on days when those words dominated the boards. Tyler had found a three to one, positive to negative ratio worked well with Kripke. It was believable and seemed thorough, but it didn't upset the big boss. 

“Last night the fans loved the sword fight, the kiss, and Neville's sassy line,” Tyler reported. 

“Remind me to thank Ben for that.”

“They continue to wonder how Aaron has fared so well in a post power world.” The most “thumbs upped” comment had actually been, “Wolves would have eaten that clumsy SOB fourteen years ago,” but Kripke seemed to have plans for Aaron that included a long life and butterfingers. The reports of loathing and skepticism had to be spaced out. 

Fan fiction was next to report and this part of the meeting ranged from fun to awkward. He hated it when the actors sat in on those chats. Tyler had had to explain to Billy Burke what donkey punch was and that in the number one erotic story of the week Miles had been the punchee. Eric tended to end up either giggling like a schoolgirl or yelling, “Yeah. Fuck it out.”

Today Eric didn't let him start his report. 

“Tyler, who are the fans indifferent to?” 

“Oh God, Eric. Not his conversation. Is the network making you kill someone again?”

“You know I can't tell you. Now, answer the question.” 

"Aaron and Rachel rarely turn up in fan wank, but reactions to them are pretty strong if you force people to think about them.”

“Would people cry if they died?”

“Some would, sure. Others would have celebration pie.”

“Huh. What about Jason?”

“There are some girls who would be heartbroken. Probably some guys too, but they aren't as loud about it. Most of the rest of the fandom thinks he's marked for death, so it wouldn't be a real surprise.” 

“Marked for death how?” Kripke pressed. 

“He was a plot device and you're done with him. The only way his death could be more predictable is if you had him make amends with his father and sleep with Miles first.” Tyler's eyes bugged out as he realized what he'd said. There was the truth and then there was suicide. He'd never get promoted to Supernatural now. 

“I'm sorry,” Tyler spluttered. “I spent the morning on AV Club. It's like bathing in distilled hipster sweat. The snark just seeps into your pores, ya know?” 

“Yeah,” Kripke answered, his expression calming as he heaved a world weary sigh. “I know AV Club. Is IMDB still knit picking nuclear meltdown?”

“I've been on there as a scientist and as a former nuclear submariner telling them everything is fine but they're still not buying it. They're nuts about the power plants melting down and they think the East Coast is a wasteland. Everyone thinks they're an expert on fallout.” 

“What are their feelings on the characters?”

“Bunch of moody, inconsistent bastards."

Kripke's eyes bugged at the statement.

Tyler dove for verbal cover, "The IMDB posters that is, not the characters.” 

Kripke's tight smile made Tyler's balls clench. This was an unpaid internship on a show he didn't much like, but most of the people were nice and he spent the day reading porn. The job had major perks. J.D. had told some girls at SDCC that he'd been in Twilight and the night had turned epic. Billy was teaching him to play guitar. Sitting on a bar patio rocking a guitar with Charlie Swan had led to some stories no one believed and that he'd never forget. And he'd seen Tracy's boobs bounce while riding a horse. 

Tyler started grasping at straws, hoping one of them would please the grand overlord of the show. 

“Miloe is still insanely popular. Girls just love stories about two hot, miserable dudes doing it in the butt. They're like Castiel and Dean but people are sure there's a lot of naked in their backstory.”

“Are these the same people who think Miles is Charlie's father or the people who think Miles and Charlie should bang?” 

“People seem to hold a lot of conflicting head canons simultaneously,” Tyler said.

“And they accuse me of continuity problems,” Kripke muttered. 

Kripke took a slug of his Diet Coke, ambled to the window, and stared at the waves of heat rising from the asphalt. It was 110 degrees today and they did most of their filming outside. He didn't have to order the cast to look grimy and exhausted this year. Just walking out the door did the trick. He'd had to stop writing so many wounds. The makeup kept melting off and no two shots ever looked quite the same. Whoever had decided to move production to Texas this year should be shot. He couldn't wait to explore the California Republic next year. 

“Tyler,” he said, turning back to face the pimply young man whose eyes followed him like a dog at the edge of the dinner table.

“Yes, Eric?” 

“I asked you to keep an eye on something for me.” 

“The nanites,” Tyler answered. He'd walked in on a rather drunk creative team debating the pesky, airborne techno-vermin. Ben had wanted the nanites to fuck it out and evolve. Kripke had had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that sex acts might lead to a next generation of organism and then he'd wanted to know how they got bottles of lube that small. JJ had just smiled drunkenly said something barely comprehensible about Lost and audiences always hating the answers they demanded. Jon Favreau, somehow the most sober of the four of them, had laughed until he fell off a chair and then said, “Make the intern fix it.” From then on Tyler had been on a research mission. 

“Not just nanites. I know the fans hate them. The nanite retcon or fix-it. Have you found a proper toilet for some of the bullshit we dropped in season one?”

“I ran a couple of polls under different identities and reviewed what's out there. If you never mentioned the nanites again, the fans who are still with you would be OK with it.”

“What?” 

“They just want the power out," Tyler answered. "They don't care why.” 

“They why do I need Aaron or Rachel?” Kripke wondered aloud. 

Tyler checked himself before the words could escape his lips. He thought, 'If you kill another lead female character the fans will burn you like you keep burning Winchester fuckers.' It was the truth, but Kripke could figure that out for himself. 

“Are people expecting me to kill Aaron or do they think he's safe?” 

Tyler weighed the virtues of honesty against the ease of life under a happy boss and decided to split the difference. “People expected Aaron to die in season one. Since he's still alive they assume you have a big plan for him. It would be a surprise if he died now.”

Kripke started thinking aloud as he wandered out the door. “I could reunite him with Priscilla, show him as a family man seeking forgiveness but unable to forgive himself and THEN kill him.”

Tyler wondered if Revolution really needed another character printed on the Dean mold but kept his mouth shut and cursed his mom for the millionth time for getting him a job on the wrong Kripke show. When he heard the squeak of the accounting office door as Kripke moved to the next stage of his patrol, Tyler got back to work. He logged into Tumblr, using his identity as a European teenage girl and starting reblogging pretty pictures of Miles and Bass with the occasional Charlie shot thrown in. After that he'd log back in as a North American girl and hit them with some Jason. Making his Australian identity seem real required using the queue and he saved it for last when he could just reblog from his other two identities and work in whatever characters he hadn't hit for the day.

Tyler heard Tracy Spiridakos talking in the hall and popped to attention, alert to the increasing volume of her voice as she came closer. She was probably on her way to makeup and wouldn't stop to see him, but he still hung on her every word. 

“That horse just loves me,” she said. “It was funny at first, but now it feels kind of out of control. It's like it wants to mate with me or something.” 

Tyler leaned towards the door, her voice growing fainter as she passed his door and kept going down the hall. Thoughts of Tracy and the horse consumed him. He opened a new tab in his browser and eagerly searched the Live Journal Kink Meme for satisfaction.

**Author's Note:**

> The comment section is open and anon comments are enable. Suggestions for future Tyler the Intern stories are welcome.


End file.
